


Sorry doesn't bring back my fucking Skittles, Ian

by mickeymouseno1



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Future Fic, I love sugar too, Love, M/M, Make-up, Scary love for Skittles, Skittles, Slight OOC, and sugar, fight, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeymouseno1/pseuds/mickeymouseno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mickey… babe…” Ian started, but Mickey was already shaking him off and storming away.<br/>“Mickey!”<br/>The door slammed in response.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorry doesn't bring back my fucking Skittles, Ian

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this absolutely beautiful pic:  
> http://9gag.com/gag/aYW3WZO/sorry-doesn-t-bring-back-my-skittles-ian
> 
> This is completely un-betaed and written extremely quickly 'cos I really need to get back to exam study haha. So this fic isn't as good as it could've been (sorry!). For my friend who's going through a rough patch right now. Hope this helps cheer you up!

Mickey trudged wearily up the stairs, cursing the old Havisham lady (or whatever the fuck her name was). Because of her, the elevator had been out of commission all day. So what if she’d caught him and Ian making out in there? Didn’t mean she had to demand a full clean-up (“and proper disinfection!”) of the area. Even if she was right that they’d done more than just make out in the lift.

Mickey also took the opportunity to curse his charred lungs. The effects of choosing carcinogens over endorphins, he supposed, were gradually rearing their ugly heads.

All in all, Mickey was having a piss poor day and was looking forward to two things. One: a young redheaded freak whose freckled ass should be home by now. And secondly, the Desserts-flavoured Skittles currently sitting on their kitchen bench. The promise of a delirium of sweetness wrapped up in a delightful pink packet. If Mickey was a sap, he’d grin to himself at the thought.

He was totally smiling to himself.

As Mickey finally reached the third floor, and wheezed while he fished for his keys. Unlocking the door, he kicked it open with a grunt. In his periphery, Mickey saw a blob of red hair poking above the couch and walked over to run his fingers through it as he stumbled towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Mick,” came a pained groan from the couch.

Mickey frowned at Ian’s unusually sombre tone, but decided to find his Skittles first. He paused as he looked around the kitchen. He could’ve sworn he’d left it next to the rack of dishes that morning before he’d left for work. Maybe Ian had put it in the cupboard with his Snickers collection?

After a minute of unfruitful searching, Mickey could feel his bad mood rushing back. He was about to snap when something registered in his mind. Another pained groan from the couch.

“Mickey…”

Mickey instantly rushed to the couch and found himself unable to breathe. Ian was lying there, curled in a foetal position and gripping his stomach. Cursing, Mickey shook Ian.

“Ian? What the fuck happened to you?”

“Ugh…”

Mickey glanced towards the phone on the dining table, randomly wondering if they’d paid their bill for this month, when Ian started to move. Although he looked in pain, Ian also seemed sheepish for some reason.

“Umm… Mick. My stomach’s not feeling so good.”

“Is it the meds? Do you need me to call your doc?”

“Umm… no,” Ian shook his head, looking sheepish for the second time. “It’s… a bit embarrassing, actually.”

Mickey rubbed Ian’s arm gently, and moved to sit next to him.

“Tell me, fire…” Mickey paused as he felt a rustling sound where he’d sat.

Ian’s eyes widened in horror as Mickey felt for what he’d sat on. Pulling it out, Mickey could feel the blood rushing to his face. So much for the two things he’d been looking forward to. In his hand, was a completely empty, torn packet of the Skittles he’d been yearning for all day.

Ian could only stare in horror while Mickey’s face turned a shade of red he hadn’t seen it go in a very long time. He could almost swear it’d gone redder than his hair, but now wasn’t the time for such observations.

“Mickey… babe…” Ian started, but Mickey was already shaking him off and storming away.

“Mickey!”

The door slammed in response.

****

Ian groaned as a bright light shone in his eyes. For a while, he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, unsure where he was, before he remembered he’d been relegated to the couch after last night’s events.

Rolling his neck, sighing as it cracked through its motions, Ian shuffled over to their bedroom. He frowned as he noticed the door slightly ajar and tentatively pushed it open. The bed was empty. Mickey must have left earlier than usual to avoid him on purpose. Ian sighed and changed out of his clothes for work.

****

Fiona waltzed to his computer and gave him a quick peck on the forehead.

“You don’t look so good today, Ian.”

“Umm…” Ian laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “I may have messed up yesterday.”

Fiona frowned. “With what? The numbers for the event?”

“No umm with Mickey.”

Fiona chuckled to herself and sat on Ian’s desk. “What’d you do this time?”

“Eaten his Skittles?”

There was a brief moment of silence before Ian was faced with his sister cackling and slapping her thighs uncontrollably. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her this amused before, and was almost a little pissed that this was the kind of thing she found hilarious.

“Oh my god, Ian,” Fiona gasped between laughs. “What’d you do, eat the whole packet?”

Ian blushed furiously in response, setting Fiona off on another round of uncontrolled laughter.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Jeez, Fiona,” Ian snapped. “Thanks for the support.”

Fiona took a moment to compose herself and gave another quick peck on his forehead. “You’ll be alright, little bro.” With that, she waltzed away, leaving a flummoxed and slightly disconcerted Ian behind.

****

It had been a whole hour, and Ian hadn’t gotten any work done. Fiona would be on his ass if he didn’t get to it, but he couldn’t get over his guilt. Last night, when he’d come home, he’d seen the Skittles on the kitchen bench. Usually, Mickey stored his candy in the cupboard, so Ian had assumed that Mandy had just forgotten it when she’d come to visit. He’d seen a few ads about this flavour and was curious to see what it tasted like. After 10 minutes, Ian was lying on the couch, while his stomach rebelled against what felt like the millions of sugar-packed pieces he’d shoved into his mouth.

Ian shook his head. Mickey’s look of despair upon realising where his Skittles had gone had been so heartbreaking (and so, so adorable), and all Ian wanted to do was kiss it better. Whipping his phone out, he decided to message Mickey.

_Mick, I’m sorry._

Ian bit his lip as he waited for a response. His phone stubbornly stayed silent. After a minute, Ian tried again.

_Please talk to me baby._

Ian tapped his leg nervously as his phone remained silent. Maybe Mickey was busy? No, but Mickey was always so good about responding to his texts, even at work.

_Muffin?_

Ian bit his lip to contain his smile. Maybe if he tried something else?

_Sweet pea?_

No response.

_The worlds prettiest thug?_

Still nothing. Ian decided to pull out the big guns.

_Beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure._

After ten intense seconds, Ian’s phone vibrated.

_Sorry doesn’t bring back my fucking Skittles, Ian._

Ian pouted in despair and resolved himself to getting through the rest of this unproductive and depressing day before a brilliant idea popped in his head. After that, the rest of his day truly was unproductive, as Fiona wasted no time scolding him on.

****

Mickey trudged up the stairs wearily, cursing the old Havisham lady again. This time, he also took the chance to curse his lungs as well as the annoying ginger who was hopefully already home so he could angrily stare at his pretty face some more.

Wincing as he accidentally kicked the door open with more ferocity than usual (the old Havisham lady would be on his case again about loud wall-banging activities during the night), Mickey immediately started moving towards the bedroom. In his haste, however, Mickey slammed right into a tall, warm wall. Looking up, Ian’s face greeted him. Ugh, stupid adorable motherfucker who he wanted to kiss but also push out of the way.

“Hey, Mick.” Ian placed his hands on Mickey’s shoulders, and Mickey grumbled internally as he immediately deflated and calmed down.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Ian pushed Mickey towards the kitchen and placed conciliatory kisses along the back of his neck. “I didn’t realise it was yours, and I should’ve known how you would’ve reacted.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink packet.

Mickey sighed, yanked the Skittles out of Ian’s hands and walked over to the couch. Falling back into it with a sigh, he looked back at Ian, who was still standing there, his stupid puppy dog eyes threatening to burst.

“Come on, Gallagher.” Mickey motioned at the spot next to him.

Ian laughed, rushed over to slam into Mickey’s body and they didn’t leave the couch that night.


End file.
